WHISKEY, ROCK, BATS
Bobby Joe Cameron, the star quarterback had been pestering daddy to let me go out with him for months. Today Daddy said yes.
"Where we going?" I asked buckling ...my seatbelt.
Taking a swig from a whiskey bottle he handed it to me and grinned. "It's a surprise."
I took a sip, grimacing as it burned its way down to my navel. Not wanting to act all prudish on my first date I took a bigger swig.
By the time we got to Shell Cave we were both giggling and stumbled just a little when we got out of the car. Bobby Joe grabbed a flashlight and pulled me inside the cave.
Seemed like we went a long way before Bobby Joe giggled again and said, "watch this". Picking up a rock he threw it at the ceiling.
Now Bobby Joe probably didn't know about that hole in the floor. And he probably didn't figure on them bats being so riled up over one little rock. He sure didn't know I had a deathly fear of bats.
Today's my sixteenth birthday and I died because of a bottle of whiskey, a rock and a bunch of bats.
No comments:
Post a Comment